


Asleep Beneath the Willow

by happysarcasm



Series: andi’s mcyt fics [5]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, Sibling Bonding, Sleep Deprivation, Songfic, tommys really just Going Through It, wilbur still dies so i’m counting it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happysarcasm/pseuds/happysarcasm
Summary: Tommy sees Wilbur’s ghost at the L’mantree and thinks he’s going insane. After Tommy calms down, they decide to have a little chat.[MAJOR SPOILERS FOR NOV. 16TH WAR]
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: andi’s mcyt fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905163
Comments: 7
Kudos: 251





	Asleep Beneath the Willow

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i will never miss an opportunity for sbi family angst. i am a ff author first and a human second, have some hurt/comfort siblings. enjoy!

The cool winter air made the nearby trees sway at a slow, gentle pace. Tommy could see and hear his friends constructing New L’manburg (“It’s a work in progress name” Tubbo had told him) and yelling over each other as he walked down the Prime Path. He knew it wasn’t hostile, everybody who lived here was loud by themselves, so putting more than two of them in one place at a time would be bound to end up in chaos.

Disregarding the voices of his friends, Tommy made his way over to the obsidian box surrounding the L’mantree. He had carved a space just big enough for anyone to fit through a couple days after the final war. Sometimes, Tommy still felt clumps of stone and ash under his feet when he walked.

The entrance into the tree’s enclosure made it easier for him to not be spotted here. Anyone intruding in him now, even Tubbo, might cause him to snap. He didn’t know for sure, but after all that happened in the past weeks, he didn’t feel like breaking and having to mend another relationship. 

Dark purple walls blocked his view and hearing of the outside and he traveled to the opposite side of the box and sat. Two oak signs, one significantly older than the other, were placed on the bark of the tree. The older had the simple word “L’mantree”, placed by Wilbur only weeks before the final battle for their city.

The newer, cleaner sign sent pangs of regret and hurt throughout Tommy. He had been the one to place the sign under his brother’s, and shakily carved words read:

_Wilbur Soot_  
_Doting father, caring brother and son_  
_Gone too soon_  
_o7_

Tommy had rewritten the words more times than he could count when he first put it up. Some were furious at Wilbur for still going through with his plan, for siding with Dream of all people, for leaving him alone with a genocidal brother and a father who’s only just recently even fucking bothered to come see them again, murdering him almost immediately. 

Sometimes his words were full of anguish rather than rage. Scribbling down apologies to nobody who could actually see them, doubled over in tears of shame and guilt that would fall onto the sign. Breathing so sporadically and heavily that he had to lean against the obsidian wall and set the sign aside just to calm himself, if only for a short while, just enough to write a coherent headstone. 

More often than not, he couldn’t find any words to say. Not just with the sign, it was nearly all the time now. He was less talkative, less energetic, less of the drive he once had for fucking around with his friends or helping build their new city, less of everything that made him...Tommy. His family, his friends, even he himself noticed just how awful he was taking this.

Tommy added the salute only a few hours after completing the sign. He felt at the time it was appropriate, now looking at the addition made him borderline sick. 

Leaves from the sacred tree fell around him every so often. Tommy didn’t bother to pick them from his hair or his clothes, he barely had enough energy to walk down the path from his house to here. He didn’t know if it was from the lack of sleep or...on second thought, most of the other alternatives lead back to the lack of sleep he was getting. 

Tommy placed a hand on the farm path that had been put in place for where his “body” was buried. There was no actual body in there, Phil said it disappeared after he left to deal with..whatever the fuck. He didn’t remember or care for that matter right now. The path felt like a path would normally feel like, but the connotations made it feel entirely different. 

He heard rustling from the other side of the tree and paused his thoughts. Was somebody else in here? Godammit, did he really not notice if someone else came in?

Tommy tilted his head downward with a sigh and words came out strained. “Hey, if someone else is in here, can you get the hell out bef-“ He was cut off by the very faint sound of an acoustic guitar from the opposite side of the tree.

The tune it played wasn’t familiar to Tommy, but it sounded...warm. Safe. It was calming, and despite Tommy’s insistence that he didn’t want anyone here with him, he allowed the soft notes to keep playing. A voice soon started singing with the almost haunting tune.

_“I wonder if you’ll leave me behind someday_

_Among the wildflowers and the lilies_

_Sleeping by the way”_

Wilbur’s voice started singing the unfamiliar lyrics. Was his mind playing a joke on him? Some sick fucking joke it was. Tommy felt his hands start to shake the tiniest bit, and started fidgeting with the dark green jacket around his waist. His mind was telling him to get up and run. To get as far away as possible from the song. But he couldn’t.

_“But it’s ok,_

_Because I would do_

_Anything for you.”_

He let his head fall back against the purple rock, not wanting to look to the other side of the tree to see if Wilbur was really there, because he knew he wasn’t. His brother wasn’t there, because his body was gone and he hadn’t seen him after the 16th and he was dead. 

So he let his mind play tricks on him, pretending that Wilbur was really there, playing a song he found in his free time or just spitting out any lyric he thought of. Tommy was fine with that.

He wasn’t sure how long the song actually was, but by the ending chorus, he focused back in on the words. They were different this time.

_“I wonder when you left me behind that day_

_Asleep beneath the willow,_

_Withering away,”_

The teenager looked down to the sign. Wilbur had left him behind, in a way. But he wasn’t asleep under any tree as far as he knew. His body was most likely in the woods or in the ravine that nobody had bothered to go back to since Monday.

He practically banished the imagery of his brother dragging himself back to Pogtopia on the brink of death, only to finally die, alone and nobody at his side.

_“If you were ok._

_Because I would do anything for you.”_

_‘Wilbur definitely wasn’t ok’_ Tommy thought with a hint of amusement. 

_“I would do anything.”_

The song ended on that note. Tommy opened his eyes-when had he closed his eyes?-and stared at the treetop. Guitar notes were still played very faintly in the background. 

“Tommy.”

His head snapped downward at the sound of his name, his eyes glued to the grass. God, was he that fucked right now? Is his mind just supplying a mirage of his dead brother for fun??

“Tommy, hey.”

His voice was louder this time. Tommy wanted to cover his ears, shrivel up and die right on the spot. 

“Can you hear me?”

“..Yeah.”

Against his better judgement, his strained voice answered the mirage (ghost??) with a one-word reply.

The voice let out a breathy, barely audible chuckle, signifying the amazement that Tommy could actually hear him. “Did you like the song, Tommy?” 

“Yeah. It was...nice.”

His brain was malfunctioning right now. He tried willing it away, getting rid of the outright mockery he was putting himself through. It didn’t work in the slightest.

“Good! Good, I’m glad. I wanted to play that for a while but, the whole war and election thing got in the way I guess?” Wilbur’s voice paused. “I mean, not that I remember much of it, but..”

**What?**

He didn’t remember? Of course he did! If this voice was a product of his own mind then why couldn’t Not-Wilbur remember some things?

“You don’t...remember?” His words were coming out strangled and heavy. Just talking to the voice was taking a toll on him.

“Uh, no, not a lot. I talked with Tubbo about this earlier, I remember the war with Dream and our independ-“

“You talked with Tubbo?!” How was that even a possibility?? Unless Tubbo was having some fucking hallucinations too, then how could…

Was this really Wilbur?

“Uh— yeah, I did, is that a problem?” The voice asked with a somewhat playful tone. Tommy mustered up the courage to tilt his head upward, stand up, and move around the tree log.

There he was, in all his fucking ghostly glory. Wilbur, with grey skin and hair and completely blacked out eyes, not wearing his Pogtopia clothes or L’manburg uniform, instead decked in a yellow sweater, black jeans and sneakers. The guitar he used to play the song was slung behind him with the neck strap. 

Something about the outfit change gave Tommy a sense of nostalgia, accompanied with a wave of pure, overwhelming _grief._ Tommy had no idea he was even capable of touching Ghost Wilbur, but after a second of shocked quiet he borderline collapsed into the older’s arms. He counted himself lucky that the other was at least somewhat corporeal as the man held him there.

Tommy’s breathing was heavy as his body shook with sobs. He clung onto his brother’s sweater like it was his only lifeline, burying his face in the fabric.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy.” He felt Wilbur’s arms tighten around him. Tommy didn’t know what he was apologizing for. For dying? For blowing up their whole fucking city? He sure as hell wasn’t sorry about that when he was alive. Maybe he got more details when talking with Tubbo or whoever else.

“You left me alone, Wil..” His voice was hoarse.

“I know. I didn’t want to.”

The two stayed like that for a few more minutes until Tommy felt stable enough to move again. The younger pulled away and wrapped his arms around himself, not bearing to look at his brother’s face.

“So. You’re just a goddamn ghost now? Do you just haunt L’m— ..this place?” Tommy stopped himself from completing the name, realizing that it no longer existed and instead opting for something more broad.

Ghost Wilbur scratched at his neck. “Uh, I think so? I don’t really know which place is which aside from Dream SMP and L’manburg.” Tommy internally cringed at the name of the destroyed city. 

“Ok, ok, uh— have you talked to anyone besides Tubbo?” Tommy asked. He was hoping the answer was no, he didn’t exactly know why.

“Yeah, I think I’ve interacted with almost everyone in this general area.” Oh. “Tubbo, Fundy, Phil, Quackity, Niki, you know. Them.”

Tommy was puzzled. Was he the last person Wilbur came to? His own brother, how only family that had stuck by him until the very end, until his end. Tommy was the _only_ one, so why would Wilbur only come to him days after?

“Am I the last one you’re speaking to? Did you just pop in to see everyone else?” Tommy knew he sounded bitter, but frankly, he thought he was allowed to be a little pissed off at Wilbur right now, for a metric fuck ton of reasons. 

Wilbur seemed to think about his answer for a moment “...Yes?” He said it as if it were a question.

Tommy tried not to let the hurt seep into his voice or expression. “Why? Did you just- not think that “Oh hey, Tommy may want to see me after the whole getting killed by dad and blowing up the city thing!”? Did that not even cross your mind?!” His voice was raised by the time he finished, staring dead into Wilbur’s eyes this time. 

The older looked away from Tommy. “I thought that you wouldn’t want to talk to me.” He said in a quiet, almost ashamed tone.

“What?! Why would I not want to see you, you’re fucking DEAD! I thought the last time I’d ever see you again was when Phil literally murdered you!” Tommy felt a sting in his eyes again but paid it no mind as he told off the other.

“I mean, forgive me if I’m getting this wrong, but. I don’t think Alive Me was that...good to you. To most of his family.” He gave Wilbur a perplexed look, urging him to elaborate. “I mean...Fundy told me I abandoned and practically disowned him, Niki is probably afraid of me, Tubbo is reluctant at best to speak to me, and Techno and Phil can barely even stand to look at me. I just thought the pattern would continue, considering the less than great things he did just to get what he wanted. Tubbo told me a lot about the shit that he did. Things that I did.” 

Tommy stood nearly speechless. Did he really think that? “Wilbur, of course I want to see you! You’re like, my only blood family who I can stand as of right now. I don’t hate you, Wil.” 

Tommy was pretty sure ghosts couldn’t cry, but he might’ve seen tears running down the other’s face in that moment as he went for another hug. It felt normal to them, even if it had been so long since the last time they had genuinely hugged each other. 

Not out of fear for their lives, or for the purpose of hiding, or one of them sobbing his heart out because the ghost of his dead fuckin’ brother just decided to pop in while he was mourning said brother. 

It was safe. It was home, and they’d try and fix their home one step at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> song used: overgrown gardens by beetlebug. fun fact, she also created an ode to l’manburg! her music fuckin slaps bro. 
> 
> anyway hoped you enjoyed my self indulgent rambling about ghost wilbur and tomathyinnit


End file.
